Hearts, Clubs, and Diamonds
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: My Valentine's Day story this year. :-) After a fight on Valentine's Day, Harley remembers an event during her early days in the Joker's gang, where she's kidnapped by a rival criminal. Joker has to confront his feelings for her, and decide whether or not she's worth rescuing.
1. Chapter 1

**Hearts, Clubs, and Diamonds**

"Puddin'? Did you hear what I said?"

The Joker grunted, staring intently at the giant fish tank opposite their table.

"I asked you why you insisted on a seafood restaurant for our Valentine's Day meal," repeated Harley Quinn. "You know I can't stand fish. I feel sick eating 'em, or just looking at 'em…"

"Well, don't look at 'em then, pooh," retorted Joker, keeping his eyes fixed on the tank behind her.

"I'm trying not to, but you keep staring at that tank," said Harley. "Doncha think it might be nice to stare at your girlfriend on Valentine's Day?"

"Why? It doesn't have to be Valentine's Day for me to stare at you," he retorted. "It's not every day I can look at fish, though. I can't get pet fish because you hate 'em, and I really love fish, so I'm gonna stare at 'em here."

"I didn't know you liked fish," said Harley, surprised. "I mean, there was that gag with the Joker fish, but I thought that was kinda a one-off…"

"No, I like fish," interrupted Joker. "Joker fish, piranhas in 'The Death of a Hundred Smiles,' fish are kinda a thing of mine. So just let me enjoy looking at 'em."

"But puddin', it's Valentine's Day," said Harley. "And I got this brand new dress and dolled myself all up, and you'd rather look at a buncha stupid fish than your gorgeous girlfriend?"

"I can stare at you anytime I wanna, not that I ever wanna," he snapped.

"Yeah, but it's not every day that I'm dressed like this…" began Harley.

"Look, just quit your whining, huh, Harley?" demanded Joker. "You're lucky I'm even out with you at a fancy restaurant tonight. I had plans, y'know, plans that I had to rearrange at the last minute because you wouldn't just let this Valentine's Day thing go. So just count your blessings that I'm here at all, rather than ditching you like I originally wanted to."

"I don't think I should be grateful that my boyfriend is taking me out someplace nice for Valentine's Day," snapped Harley. "I think it's kinda expected that you spend time with me today, in fact."

"Oh, you always say that about special occasions," snapped Joker. "Half of which you've made up. I'll let your birthday and Christmas slide, but we've got about eight anniversaries for some reason…"

"Well, we got the day we met, the day you first kissed me, the day we first had sex in Arkham, the day I busted you outta Arkham, the day we first had sex outside of Arkham, the day we first used the whoopie cushion during sex…"

"Yeah, lotta anniversaries," interrupted Joker. "And then Valentine's Day on top of all that other crap."

"Crap?" repeated Harley. "The precious memories of the beginnings of our relationship are not crap!"

"They don't merit a whole day of celebration!" snapped Joker. "And neither does this stupid holiday! It's made up by card companies to sell cards, and by women to guilt trip their boyfriends into doing something special on top of all the other crap they do for them!"

"What do you ever do for me?" demanded Harley.

"I give you my time and attention and a nice place to live…"

"You never give me your time and attention!" retorted Harley. "And we live in the abandoned funhouse with a leaky roof..."

"Oh, so that's not good enough for you anymore, is it, Little Miss High and Mighty?" demanded Joker.

"It's fine as long as I'm with you!" shouted Harley. "That's all I ever want, Mr. J, just to spend a little time with you! I'd live anywhere and do anything for that, and I frequently do! And I don't think it's asking too much to have a couple days outta the year where I am your number one priority instead of…"

"Batman!" shouted someone, pointing behind Harley.

"What…" began Harley, about to turn around, but Joker seized her before she could.

"No, don't look behind you, pooh, there's fish," he said hastily.

"Oh my God, he's tied up in that fish tank!" cried another patron. "He can't get out!"

Harley stared at Joker. "You brought…Batman on our Valentine's Day date?"

"I am shocked, pooh, that you would think I'd do something like that!" exclaimed Joker. "This is all obviously a huge coincidence…"

"He's breaking out!" cried another patron, and Harley heard the sound of cracking glass.

"You're right, pooh, I ain't in the mood for seafood either," said Joker, hastily pulling her to her feet. "Let's go someplace else…"

But he was too late. The glass shattered, sending a huge wave of water and fish washing straight into Harley. She was too stunned and traumatized to respond right away, or do anything but shiver uncontrollably, while Joker walked behind her and kneeled down to examine Batman, who was confined in a straightjacket.

"Well, he didn't drown, but he's passed out, which is good enough for me," Joker said, shrugging. "Guess kicking out that glass took all he had. We'd better get outta here before he wakes up…"

He was suddenly slapped hard across the face. "You jerk!" screamed Harley. "I can't believe you brought work on our date! I can't believe you let that man come between us again and again! Don't you care about me at all?!"

"Look, pooh, I had already made a plan to fight Bats today, but you were so belligerent about this stupid Valentine's Day date that I had to find a way to compromise, so I improvised this Houdini underwater escape act in a fish tank routine!" said Joker. "Frankly, I think it was a pretty clever way to kill two birds with one stone, or one bat with a tank of fish, I guess…"

He was slapped hard again. "You think I should be happy that I had a tank of fish dumped on me?!" screamed Harley. "When you know how much I hate fish?!"

"Well, to be fair, I didn't know he'd be able to break out, or I never would have sat you there," said Joker. "But I had to keep you facing away from the tank, you see, so you wouldn't notice Bats, and your fish phobia was a great excuse for that…"

He was slapped a third time. "You horrible creep!" screamed Harley. "I can't believe you would do this to me, especially on Valentine's Day, the day that's meant to be a celebration of that special person you love! But that's not me, apparently! My beautiful dress is completely ruined, not that I should even bother dressing up for you…"

"Oh, for God's sake, Harley, stop fishing for compliments about the damn dress!" retorted Joker. Then he beamed. "Get it?" he chuckled. "Fishing for compliments?"

He burst into hysterical laughter, which was abruptly silenced as Harley socked him in the jaw. Then she stormed off without another word to get a taxi home. She tried to ignore the odd glances the driver gave her, and the moment she arrived back at the funhouse, she stripped off her wet dress, threw it into the trash, and then climbed into the shower.

Joker still hadn't returned by the time she was out, so she got dressed and wrote him a note:

 _Mr. J,_

 _Enjoy your Valentine's Day alone, or with Bats, I don't care. I'm going to a hotel, and if you don't ever see me again, you'll know why. Maybe it'll take me leaving you forever before you'll learn to appreciate me._

 _Harley._

She left the note on the bed, and then grabbed a small bag full of her stuff and left the funhouse. She walked a few blocks before she came to a sleazy looking hotel called _The Chelsea Arms_. She pulled out her purse and glanced at what little cash she had on her, and figured this was probably the only sort of place she could afford right now. Whenever she had left Joker before, she had always gone to stay with friends, but she didn't want to bother any of them on Valentine's Day when they might have plans. She was sure Poison Ivy, who she usually stayed with, would definitely have company, and she didn't want to intrude.

She pushed open the door to reveal a dirty and dimly-lit lobby. "Uh…hi," she said, approaching the grumpy elderly lady at the desk. "I'd like a room for tonight?"

The lady glared at her. "No visitors allowed," she said.

"Oh…no, that won't be a problem," said Harley. "I know what you're thinking, it being Valentine's Day and all, that I'm only booking a room in order to meet with some guy, but actually I've just left my boyfriend and I'm looking to be alone right now, so no visitors is fine with me."

The lady snorted, and handed her a key. "Room 12."

"Thanks," said Harley, climbing the stairs. She opened the door to her room, which appeared no more clean or better lit than the lobby. But that kinda suited her mood right now, she thought, putting down her bag.

She sat down on the bed and flicked on the TV. It being Valentine's Day, the few channels she received were all romantic films with handsome, muscular men fawning over beautiful, buxom women. Harley watched a few minutes of one before flicking off the TV in annoyance.

"Why has everything gotta remind you of love today?" she muttered to herself. "It's like a giant conspiracy from the media to make sure you feel alone."

She suddenly heard the sound of squeaky springs from next door, and then the noises of two people loudly enjoying their time together. "Aw, criminey," muttered Harley, grabbing a pillow to place over her head. "And I forgot to bring my gun too."

She lay on the bed with the pillow pressed over her ears, which did little to drown out the pleasurable noises from next door. She felt hot tears come to her eyes, and her sniffling gradually turned into full blown sobbing.

Her phone rang suddenly. She glanced at the number and saw that it was Joker. "Nope, not in the mood to talk right now," she snapped, rejecting the call. He instantly called again, but she rejected this one too. The third time, she just ignored the phone, putting the pillow over her head again to drown out the ringtone.

Then she heard a buzz – she'd got a message from Joker. She picked up the phone and read the following:

 _There's one anniversary you never remember. But I do._

Harley scoffed. She tried to put the phone down and ignore the message, but her curiosity got the better of her. She texted back:

 _And what's that?_

A few moments later, she received a response:

 _The day you were kidnapped._

Harley glared at the screen, and responded:

 _Of course you'd wanna celebrate that anniversary. It was the day you almost got rid of me forever. You probably wish I'd been killed, so I wouldn't be a burden on you anymore. You probably regret that I wasn't every day. It's the anniversary of the day you would have been free again. Well, now that can be Valentine's Day, because you are._

She sent the message and curled up on the bed, shaking in fury and sobbing in pain. Trust the Joker to make her remember that horrible day on Valentine's Day – it was the only thing that could have made her feel worse at this point.

Her phone buzzed again:

 _It was the day I almost lost you. And it was the day I realized how much pain that would cause me._

Harley put down the phone, and crammed the pillow back over head. "I know what he's doing," she muttered. "He's playing with me, and trying to sweet talk me so I'll come crawling back. Well, I won't. Not this time. I see his stupid game a mile off…"

Her phone buzzed again, and she seized it and read the following:

 _It was the day I realized I loved you._

Harley shut her eyes, feeling the tears trailing down her cheeks. "He can be so cruel sometimes," she whispered. "Because he knows just what I wanna hear."

She texted back:

 _It was the day I realized you loved me too. But I guess things change._

She waited, and then grabbed the phone before it had a chance to buzz.

 _Nothing's changed. Now come home before I have to come get you again, because I sure as hell ain't letting you go. – J._

Harley sighed, lying back on the pillows. She shut her eyes again, drowning out the sounds from next door, and remembered that day, that horrible day so long ago, when she had just joined Joker's gang after breaking him out of Arkham. She had been an innocent doctor then, with no experience of committing felonies or awareness of the dangers of a life of crime…and she was about to find them out the hard way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Eight Years Ago**

"Puddin'! I got a fun surprise for you!"

"For the last time, Harley, don't call me puddin'," growled the Joker, not looking up from the plan he was working on.

"Whatever you say, puddin'," replied Harley. "Doncha wanna see the surprise?"

"I want to be left alone to work in peace," retorted Joker.

"But puddin', all work and no play makes Mr. J an unhappy boy," cooed Harley, ruffling his hair fondly. "Doncha think it's time for a little playtime with your Harley girl?" She began singing, " _Take a break and play a while, doo dah, doo dah, guarantee I'll make you smile, oh dah doo dah day!_ "

"Get off, Harley!" snapped Joker, shoving her away from him. "I'm busy! Go find something else to do with your time other than bother me!"

"But puddin', we haven't had playtime in weeks," said Harley, pouting. "Your Harley likes to be tuned up nice and regularly or her gears get rusty. Doncha wanna squirt some yummy Joker oil in them?"

"Jesus Christ, Harley!" shouted Joker, rounding on her. "Is that all you ever think about?! Because that's all you've been constantly nagging me for ever since we met – sex, sex, sex!"

"Well…it's all I think about when I look at you, puddin'," said Harley. "Because you're so sexy, and so good at it, and you make your Harley girl feel so special…"

"Harley, you have a problem!" shouted Joker. "I'd recommend seeing a shrink, but you _are_ a shrink, and you can't seem to see you have a problem! I am not some sex machine that can put out and satisfy you twenty-four hours a day! I'm a busy man with a full, busy life that doesn't constantly revolve around my girlfriend or her apparently insatiable sexual appetite! Now for the last time, stop bothering me and find something useful to do, or so help me, there'll be no sex for the rest of the year!"

"You wouldn't!" gasped Harley, horrified.

"Don't challenge me, you little brat!" snapped Joker. "Now get the hell out!"

"Yes, Mr. J," grumbled Harley as she headed for the door. "Boy, all that work for nothing," she muttered, reaching under her short, transparent slip and removing the jack-in-the-box from her thong. "It's not easy to prime one of these to spring out when this thing's removed, y'know. Not that my boyfriend appreciates all the effort I go through to indulge his unusual clown-related fetishes…"

She heard voices coming from the living room down the hall and swore under her breath. She didn't want the henchmen to see her dressed this skimpily – she didn't want anyone but Mr. J to. But the bedroom was that way, and she wanted to change into something more comfortable.

"Woah, baby!" exclaimed one of the men as she tried to hurry past. "Break me off a piece of that!"

"Bite me, creep," snapped Harley.

"Now there's no need to be so unfriendly," he said, seizing her arm.

"You let go of me now, or I'll tell Mr. J you're touching his property!" snapped Harley, glaring at him.

The henchman snorted. "What good's his property if he don't use it?" he asked, grinning unpleasantly. "And judging by your mood, he ain't used it today. Everyone knows he's crazy, but he's gotta be completely nuts to not want it when a piece of ass presents itself like that…"

"Hey, Moe, lay off," snapped Rocco Demarco, seizing the henchman's arm and ripping it off Harley's. "You know the boss wouldn't like you touching her."

"Why? He don't," retorted the henchman. "And someone should. Shame to let someone that hot be left unsatisfied."

"I'm pretty sure you'd be disappointing, Moe, in more ways than one," retorted Harley.

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Moe, seizing her again.

"It means you'll probably be a disappointment in every way a man can disappoint a woman," retorted Harley. "Stamina, skill, and size."

"How dare you insult me, you little bitch?" snarled Moe. "I wouldn't act so high and mighty if I had gone from successful doctor to spending my days begging for sex from the clown. You're pathetic, letting him use you the way he so obviously did. You're too stupid to see that he doesn't love you, even though an idiot could figure that out, and that he's lost interest in you, even though he was probably faking it from the beginning. Face it, he was just using you to bust outta the nuthouse, sweetheart. And you fell for his act hook, line, and sinker."

Harley felt hot, stinging tears come to her eyes, but she held them back as she snapped, "Nah, you just spend your days begging for orders from the clown. At least what I beg for actually gives me pleasure, rather than just doing what someone else tells me to because I ain't got a mind of my own."

Moe raised his hand to hit her, but Rocco stepped in front of her. "You hurt her, and J really will kill you," he said. "You know how particular he is about being the only one who can hurt her."

Moe growled, but slowly lowered his hand. Then he spat on the ground in front of Harley. "Dumb whore," he muttered, storming away from her.

Harley said nothing, but hurriedly left the room, her tears falling. She reached the bedroom and shut the door, and then burst into long, loud sobs. She hated the way some of the men treated her – she wasn't respected by any of them, except maybe Rocco. They all pointed and laughed at her behind her back, when they weren't just leering and saying horrible things to her face, of course. And while Harley tried to dismiss them as a bunch of idiots, some small part of her was afraid that maybe they were right. Maybe the Joker had just used her to bust out of Arkham. Maybe his interest in her had all been an act, an act he was bored of now. Maybe she had thrown her life away on a joke.

There was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" asked Harley.

"Rocco," said the henchman. "Can I come in?"

Harley sniffed, wiping her eyes, and then opened the door. "Sure, Roc," she said.

"You ok?" he asked gently, gazing at her in concern.

"Yeah, fine," she said, in what she hoped was a sincere voice. "Mr. J's just busy, and you know what he's like when he's working. He's got a one-track mind, and won't be disturbed for anything. I just wish I knew how long he was gonna be like this…he's been working an awful lot lately…"

"So what are you gonna do while he's working?" asked Rocco. "Just mope around here waiting for him?"

Harley shrugged. "Not much else to do, is there?"

"Well, why doncha come for a drink with me and the boys?" asked Rocco. "We're heading over to the bar around the corner until J lets us know what the plan is…you should join us."

"Thanks for the offer, Roc, but I don't think they want me there," said Harley. "None of 'em like me. At least, not as anything more than eye candy. And I don't have any desire to be ogled at by anyone except Mr. J."

"Oh, there are some jerks in the gang, sure," said Rocco, nodding. "Moe's a big one, as you've seen. But a lotta the guys just don't know how to act around you because they don't know you. J's never had a girl around before, and frankly I think a lot of them are just puzzled by you. I mean, any girl who loves the boss has gotta be a little…unique. But I think if they got to know you, they'd like you as a person. They'd see that you're not some dumb blonde floozy or unhinged psychopath. They'd see what I see – a sweet, kind, caring young woman who just wants to be appreciated."

Harley smiled at him. "Well…I can't go out in this," she said, gesturing to her skimpy outfit. "Will you guys wait while I change?"

"Sure thing," said Rocco, nodding. "We'll meet you outside."

He left her, and Harley changed into a casual outfit of black pants and a red top. She put her blonde hair up into two pigtails, and forced a smile at her reflection. "There. Nice and normal-looking," she said.

She left the hideout and joined the group outside, and they all walked over to the neighboring bar together, a place called _The Stacked Deck_.

"Hey, Moe!" shouted a man from a group seated at one of the tables. "Come join us!"

"Frankie, how ya doing?" asked Moe, heading over to sit next to them.

"Who's that?" asked Harley, as she and Rocco headed toward the bar.

Rocco glanced over and frowned. "Dunno. Never seen 'em before. Friends of Moe's, I guess."

Harley sat at the bar and ordered a cocktail. She felt eyes on her, and casually leaned over to see that the group of men Moe was with kept shooting glances at her. She tried to ignore them as she sipped her drink, and turned to one of the henchmen.

"Hi, I'm Harley," she said, holding out her hand.

"Uh…Larry," said the man, shaking it quickly. "How ya doing?"

"Pleased to meetcha, Larry," said Harley. "How long have you been working for Mr. J?"

"About as long as Moe," replied Larry.

"I see. Do you know his friends?" asked Harley, nodding over at the table.

"Uh…no," said Larry, glancing over. "Maybe they're from another gang? A lotta the henchmen in Gotham know each other because of a lot of us have worked for different gangs from time to time. I used to work for Two-Face myself."

"Really? Why did you join Mr. J instead?" asked Harley.

"Well…Two-Face cut my brother in half," said Larry. "Nothing malicious or anything – he just flipped the coin and it landed bad side up. But still, it was hard to work for him after that. I thought about joining Penguin, but then he went semi-legitimate with the Iceberg Lounge, and I don't think I'd be a very good waiter. Besides, J's hauls are bigger. He's a smart guy, and a good criminal."

"Yeah, he is," agreed Harley.

"Is that why you…y'know…hooked up with him?" asked Larry.

"Why, because he's a good criminal?" asked Harley.

"Well…yeah," said Larry. "I mean…it's gotta be the money, right? He's not…y'know…attractive at all, so the only reason you're with him that I can think of is that he's your…y'know…sugar daddy."

Harley laughed. "No, it ain't about the money," she said. "And it ain't because psychopaths make me hot."

"What is it, then?" asked Larry.

Harley shrugged. "He makes me laugh," she said, sipping her cocktail. "Never underestimate the power of laughter, Larry. It drives a woman crazy like nothing else."

"Yeah…I can see that," agreed Larry. "Nice talking to you, Harley. Excuse me."

He headed over to talk to another henchman. "Making any friends?" asked Rocco.

"Not friends exactly, but at least they're not insulting me to my face," said Harley. "Though I guess suggesting that Mr. J is my sugar daddy is a little insulting."

"Keep trying," said Rocco, encouragingly. "I think you'll feel a lot better if you get to know the guys. It'll be easier to dismiss the ones whose opinions don't matter, anyway," he added with a smile.

Harley smiled back, and tried mingling again. As the minutes ticked by, she did manage to carry on a few conversations, which she thought of as progress.

Her eyes kept flicking back over to Moe's table, however. Moe was getting progressively drunker and louder, and in addition to the glances in her direction, she could hear her name spoken occasionally.

She noticed the table was by a vent that led to the men's bathroom. She gradually and carefully slipped across the bar, and, when nobody was looking, ducked into the men's bathroom. It was temporarily empty, but she could hear the conversation on the other side of the wall quite clearly.

"…does he act differently now? Now that he's got somebody he loves, I mean."

Moe's voice responded, loudly and contemptuously. "He doesn't love her. J doesn't love anyone except himself, and maybe Batman. The whore's just delusional to buy his act. Crazy. Gotta give J credit for getting inside her mind and breaking it good."

"But he doesn't let you guys touch her, right? Seems odd for someone who doesn't care about her."

"Oh, it ain't about her," snorted Moe. "J just doesn't like people touching his stuff. Their whole relationship is about him, and she's too dumb to see it. He used her to break outta Arkham, and he keeps her around because it pleases him to see how well he broke her."

"But if somebody did…touch his stuff, if somebody, say, removed her from the picture, do you think it would bother him?"

"Oh yeah, but more because it would hurt his pride than anything else," said Moe. "It would be about the principle of the thing, rather than about her. Nothing's about her, and she's too stupid to see that. He doesn't care about her any more than he cares about any of his toys, like his chattering teeth bombs or exploding whoopie cushions. He invents 'em, plays with 'em for a while, and then breaks 'em. And he'll break this bitch sooner rather than later, mark my words."

"And if someone broke her before he could, that would drive J nuts, wouldn't it?"

"What, you mean more nuts than he already is?" chuckled Moe. "Yeah, it would infuriate him. But you shouldn't equate possessiveness with love. You're as stupid as Harley if you do that. He doesn't love her. He doesn't love anyone."

Harley felt tears come to her eyes again. "Your ears burning, sweetheart?" said a voice behind her suddenly.

She whirled around to see the man who had greeted Moe standing behind her, grinning unpleasantly. "You shouldn't be in here, sweetheart – it's the men's bathroom," he said.

"Oh…yeah," said Harley, feigning innocence. "There are the urinals right there…must have had one too many drinks not to notice that. My mistake. I'll just head to the women's…"

She was seized suddenly in a firm grip, with one hand clapped over her mouth. "You ain't going anywhere," hissed the man. "The boss wants us to bring you to him. The Joker made a fool outta him a few months ago, and now he wants payback. I think kidnapping the Joker's girl will work just fine, don't you?"

Harley tried to scream and struggle, but the man's grip was like iron. A few seconds later, a bag was shoved over her head, and she felt herself being smuggled outside between a group of men, who picked her up and shoved her into a waiting car.

"Call the boss and tell him we got her," said a man's voice. "So he can let the Joker know and ask for ransom. Though I doubt the Joker's gonna pay a dime for this dumb broad. From what Moe said, she means nothing to him."

Harley heard the men's mocking laughter surrounding her, and tried to keep herself from breaking down in tears. She shut her eyes tightly and thought of her Mr. J. She had faith in him. He would save her. He just had to.


	3. Chapter 3

The Joker was hunched over his plan, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he sketched what he hoped was a Batman-sized trap. "I think he can fit in that…or I might have to cut his legs off first," he muttered to himself. "Note to self – look into circular saw," he scribbled at the top of the paper.

The door to his study banged open. "Boss, something's happened…"

"For the last time, I'm working!" shouted Joker, rounding on his henchmen. "And I am not to be disturbed when I'm working! First Harley and now you – do I have to kill one of you to get the point across?" he demanded, reaching for his knife he had buried in the table.

"Boss, it's an emergency!" exclaimed Rocco. "Harley's been kidnapped!"

Joker stared at him. "Kidnapped?" he repeated. "Who on earth would want to kidnap Harley? She's completely useless."

"I dunno, boss, but you might," said Rocco, handing him the note. "She was grabbed in the bar, and this was on the table."

Joker read the note:

 _Joker,_

 _Consider kidnapping your dame as payback for that little joke you pulled last month where you showed up at the grand opening of my buddy's restaurant and then blew it up, saying you knew the place would bomb. I lost thirty of my guys, you sick freak, and my best friend from childhood. So I'm paying you back by taking someone you care about. If you want to see her alive again, bring a million dollars to the docks tonight, and you just might._

Joker read the note a second time. "I don't understand," he said, looking up at his henchmen at last. "Why does he think I care about Harley?"

"Well, gee, boss, I think most people get that impression since she's your girlfriend and all," spoke up Larry.

"But I'm always abusing and insulting her in public," said Joker. "As far as anyone knows, she's a thorn in my side, and anyone who got rid of her would be doing me a huge favor. That's the impression I constantly try to convey. Why would he think any differently?"

"Well, c'mon, boss, anyone who knows you knows that even if you pretend to hate something, like Batman, you still don't want other people taking 'em away from you," said Moe, shrugging.

"Yes, anyone who knows me," agreed Joker. "But most people don't know me. At least, they shouldn't know any more than my usual grinning, devil-may-care persona. Unless somebody told them otherwise."

He looked carefully at each of the henchmen. "Which one of you was it?" he asked, quietly. "Who's been blabbing to people we don't know?"

The henchmen all began to vigorously deny that it was any of them, and Joker sighed heavily. "All right, if no one comes forward, I gotta punish you all equally. Since loose lips sink ships, I gotta make sure your lips are sealed up nice and tight, don't I? Now the dilemma is do I sew 'em up, or use superglue? Decisions, decisions…"

"Moe was talking to some guys at the bar," interrupted Larry, hastily.

"What guys?" asked Joker, as Moe glared at Larry.

"Just some guys I know," Moe replied, shrugging. "Some buddies of mine when I first got into the henching game…"

"And who are they henching for now?" asked Joker.

"Well…I dunno," stammered Moe. "We didn't really talk about that."

"What did you talk about?" asked Joker.

"Uh…well…they wanted to know…uh…what was new around here," said Moe, slowly. "Since you…hooked up with Harley…and all…"

"Oh, they wanted to know that, huh?" asked Joker. "Tell you what, I'll be them, and you'll be you, and we'll recreate the little conversation you had. So, Moe my main man, what's new with the Clown Prince? I understand working for him is the best."

"Uh…yes, Frankie, it sure is," agreed Moe.

"Is he still ridiculously handsome, intelligent, and hysterically funny?" asked Joker.

"Yeah, he really is, Frankie," agreed Moe again.

"Bet all that charm and good looks and sense of humor must really attract the dames, huh?" continued Joker. "I hear he's got one hanging around him now, what's her name?"

"Uh…Harley Quinn," said Moe.

"Oh yeah, Harley Quinn, like the clown character," said Joker, nodding. "God, I bet whoever thought of that name for her was a regular genius. Lemme guess, it was the J-man, wasn't it? If anyone is gonna think up a stroke of brilliance like that, you can bet your life it was the Jokes."

"Uh…the Jokes?" repeated Moe.

"Yeah, it's a name I'm hoping will catch on," said Joker, nodding. "I thought it up 'cause of Harley and all – I wanna say to her 'The Jokes' on you,' in intimate situations. That'll be hilarious."

"Um…sure, boss," said Moe, hastily. "Anyway, they wanted to know if you'd…changed at all on account of you loving someone and all, and I told 'em you didn't love Harley, you were just possessive about her, like all your other toys, and you didn't want anyone else to play with 'em or break 'em except you. Y'know, like how you get all jealous about Batman fighting other people."

"I do not get jealous!" snapped Joker. "Batman can fight around if he likes, as long as he realizes that what we have is special! Which I'm sure he does! And how dare you compare my relationship with Harley to my relationship with Batman?! The two are in no way similar!"

"Um…sure boss," repeated Moe. "Anyway, I stressed that you didn't love her, and didn't care about her as anything more than a possession…"

"A possession which was then promptly stolen from me," finished Joker. "Yeah, that was some good deflection there, Moe. You really outsmarted those kidnappers."

"Look, boss, I understand how you feel about people touching your stuff," said Moe. "But honestly, she's not worth a million dollars to get back."

"No, she isn't," agreed Joker. "I ain't paying anyone a million bucks to get my own property back."

"But boss, you can't just leave her to be killed!" exclaimed Rocco.

"I ain't gonna do that either," snapped Joker. "I'm gonna figure out who this note is from, and then we're gonna go find them and get her back and kill everyone who thought it would be a good idea to touch my stuff. Now let's see, who could it be? To be fair, bombing that restaurant was a hilarious gag…it was an Italian restaurant, if I recall, because I remember thinking that the cops at the crime scene were gonna have a hard time distinguishing the tomato sauce splattered everywhere from the bits of bodies splattered everywhere. Now Italian probably means it's someone connected with the mob, rather than one of the other freaks. And I sorta remember the guy who ran the restaurant being an associate of Sal Maroni, because his name was Gio, and I remember making up a song that went to the tune of 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' which was ' _Gio's place is opening; he's friends with Sal Maroni, Shame I gotta waste 'em without trying the macaroni_.' Now Sal's got property down by the docks, which makes sense since that's where he wants the money brought. I say we storm in there instead and show him not to mess with me or my property."

"But…boss, if we just launch an assault on his hideout, some of us might be killed," said Moe. "I don't wanna risk my life for some dumb blonde. I understand your attachment to your property, but you can always find a new bit of skirt, y'know. Maybe someone even hotter than Harley. But no dame is worth dying for."

"Moe, c'mere," said Joker, beckoning him forward. Moe approached him, and to his surprise, Joker put an arm around his shoulders. "Y'know, you seem to have got it into your head that we're kinda buddies, huh?" he asked. "Blabbing to people about what I'm like, questioning my orders, insulting my dame. That's the sorta banter I expect from my guy pals. I guess you think we're kinda like friends, am I right?"

"Uh…no, boss," stammered Moe. "I'm just, y'know, trying to look out for your best interests. And I don't think it's smart to risk losing good henchmen just to get back some useless broad."

"And now you're saying I ain't smart, huh?" asked Joker, lightly. "Y'know, I think you think I've gone a little soft since I got Harley. Maybe you think she's changed me into being a more sensitive, caring person. Is that what you think?"

"No, sir," said Moe, hastily. "I told those guys that you don't love her, because you don't love anyone, because you ain't a soft kinda guy. You just keep her around for fun, to play with her and break her heart because that's just the kinda guy you are. You don't care about anyone, especially not a dumb little blonde like her."

"Gosh, you are so right, Moe," agreed Joker. "You know me so well. Human life means nothing to me, and I only use people as punchlines to my violent jokes. With your perceptive powers, you should be a shrink. You ever thought of training as a shrink?"

"Uh…no," said Moe.

"That's probably for the best – from what I understand from Harley, being a shrink, you can sometimes hear some pretty horrible things," said Joker. "Y'know, I made up this whole backstory for her – a real sobfest. Abusive father, absent mother, the kinda thing to win her sympathy, which I thought was probably the best route to go with Harley, she being such a sweet, sensitive dame and all. But the danger of being a shrink is that sometimes you hear things that are just shocking."

Joker's arm had moved from around Moe's shoulders and his hand suddenly slammed down on the back of his head. Moe started in surprise and tried to scream as a thousand volts of electricity suddenly shot through his skull from Joker's joy buzzer attached to his glove.

"And those kinda revelations can scar you for life," sighed Joker, keeping his hand pressed against Moe's skull. "Cause a lotta mental problems, permanent brain damage, that kinda thing. In that way, insanity is almost like a disease you pass from person to person, doncha think, buddy? I guess that's the danger in associating too much with lunatics – you begin to act crazy yourself. And not everyone is strong enough to bear the burden of insanity. For some people, the mind just snaps."

He removed his hand at last, and Moe's charred body fell to the ground. "Sad," sighed Joker. "And now I gotta find myself a new Stooge. But like I told him, some people just ain't strong enough to cope with the shock. I guess that's what they get for talking about things they don't understand, and thinking they're equal to people who are a lot smarter than they are. I think it's a good lesson for anyone who starts to think of a lunatic as standard and predictable, though, and I hope it's one the rest of you boys are taking to heart."

He grabbed his gun, checked to see that it was loaded, and headed for the door. "Now let's go get my property back."


	4. Chapter 4

Harley had the bag removed from her head at last, and found herself tied to a chair in what appeared to be a dingy warehouse. She was instantly greeted with a low whistle of disapproval.

"Woah, seriously? That's the clown chick? She's not even that hot. Kinda a chubby face, small tits, not my type at all. She's probably a 6 at best. You'd think J could do a lot better, but then he is crazy."

Harley saw a fat, balding man smoking a cigar and examining her. He was surrounded by a gang of men, all armed. "I was gonna let the clown have her back after I had a little fun with her," continued the fat man. "But I ain't gonna do any dame who's less than a 10."

"I think you shouldn't point fingers on the looks front," retorted Harley. "Or on the crazy front, if you think it's a good idea to mess with Mr. J."

The man snorted. "I ain't scared of that clown, sweetheart. Anyway, you're the crazy one if you think he gives a damn about you. He ain't coming to save you, and I'm looking forward to sending you back to him in pieces. I'd prefer it to the ransom I asked for, actually. It's fun to watch people who act so defiant at first break down into screaming, pleading messes, begging for mercy. And the same thing's gonna happen to you, sweetheart."

"I doubt it," retorted Harley. "I'm used to being hurt living with Mr. J. He's taught me to take a little pain."

The man laughed. "You say that like it's a matter of pride. Maybe you're too dumb to get this, sweetheart, being blonde and all, but people who love you shouldn't hurt you. If they do, they don't love you. When your boyfriend beats you, it ain't a sign that you're special to him. How does that old song go? ' _He hit me and it felt like a kiss, He hit me and I knew he loved me, If he didn't care for me, I could have never made him mad, But he hit me, and I was glad_.' Is that your twisted rationale for his behavior like the lunatic you are?"

"You don't know him," snapped Harley. "And you don't know me. What we have is special. We like the pain, we both do. But you won't like what he's going to do to you when he comes to save me."

The man laughed again. "You really are an idiot to have faith in someone called the Joker. Face it, sweetheart, his whole attitude toward you is just one big joke. The only one who doesn't see the punchline is you."

"Or maybe I'm just the only one crazy enough to understand him," replied Harley. "But trust me, you are gonna be sorry you made him mad."

She was suddenly punched across the face. "I'm getting a little tired of your lip, sweetheart," growled the man. "And I really wanna bruise up that ugly baby face of yours. So why doncha be a crybaby? C'mon, you sick little bitch!" he shouted, punching her again. "If you like violence so much, doesn't this turn you on?"

"Not if it ain't from Mr. J," growled Harley. "You ain't got the skill to hurt me like he can. He hurts me real good."

"Well, I'm gonna hurt you real bad," hissed the man. "But not too bad that on the off chance the clown does show up, he won't pay for you. But I wouldn't count on that."

He punched her again, and Harley felt her nose crack as blood began to pour from her broken lip. "There's a little taster, sweetheart," he hissed. "We'll be back soon with the main course."

He left with his men following him. The moment the door slammed, Harley broke down in tears. The tears mingled with the blood dripping down her nose and lip, pooling onto the floor around her. She could always put on a brave face, but the truth was, she was terrified about what these men were going to do to her. She had faith that Mr. J would save her, but what if he didn't arrive in time? And what if…what if he didn't come at all, like everyone said? What if she was just some stupid joke to him that he didn't care about at all?

She vehemently denied that idea to herself, but deep down she had a tiny hint of doubt, a tiny suspicion that everyone else might be right. After all, when so many people said it, she seemed like the crazy one for denying it. And it wasn't just idiots who thought it – her best friend Poison Ivy had repeatedly told her that the Joker didn't really love her and was just using her, and Ivy had been a doctor. If literally everyone else but Harley thought that was true, how could she be sure she was right? It was objectively stupid to have faith in a man calling himself the Joker – it was objectively stupid to love a psychopathic maniac. Maybe her heart had led her to make a huge mistake, a mistake she should have avoided by listening to her head. And maybe she'd pay the price for listening to her heart with her life.

"No," she muttered out loud, shaking her head. "He _will_ come rescue me. I just gotta be strong for him, and try and laugh at whatever they do to me. Mr. J's taught me to laugh through the pain. But then Mr. J always had a safety word when it got too unbearable. I doubt these guys will be up for that."

She twisted against the ropes that tied her to the chair, but they were tied tight, and all she got for her trouble was rope burns on her wrists. She tried to scoot the chair across the room, but the warehouse appeared to be empty of anything sharp that could help her cut through the ropes.

"Think, Harley," she hissed, looking around. "You're a smart girl, despite what everyone says. Think…"

She looked up to see a hook hanging from the ceiling. She followed the rope down to where it attached to a winch which was activated by a button. She scooted over to it and slammed her back against the button. The hook lowered, and she tried to hook herself onto it by reaching up on her tiptoes.

"C'mon!" she hissed, straining and jumping. She hooked the ropes onto it at last, and then kicked out at the button which elevated the hook. As the winch stopped as she reached the ceiling, she looked around.

"I'm not sure I've improved my situation," she murmured, as she hung in the air. She saw a walkway several feet away and began rocking back and forth, hoping she could somehow swing over to it. At that moment, the door opened again.

"All right, sweetheart, ready to…where the hell has she gone?" demanded the man, looking around the room. Harley held her breath and tried not to make a noise, praying he wouldn't look up.

"I…I dunno, boss," stammered one of the henchmen. "Maybe the clown got her?"

"That's impossible – if the Joker were here, he wouldn't have left without causing some kinda violent scene," said the man.

"You're right, Sal," said a voice. "I guess you do kinda know me after all. But you don't know me well enough not to mess with my stuff, and that's gonna be the last mistake you ever make."

"Mr. J!" gasped Harley in relief. Her relief was short lived when she saw the Joker and his men standing on the walkway opposite her, and that she was hanging directly in the line of fire between him and Maroni's men.

Joker suddenly noticed her hanging there and stared at her in shock. "Harley?" he gasped. "What are you doing all the way up here?"

She didn't have time to explain before the shots began to be fired. She shrieked as they zipped past her, trying to dodge them by rocking out of the way.

"Harley, you stupid waste of space!" shouted Joker, as he fired down at Maroni's men. "This won't be much of a rescue if you get shot!"

"I'm sorry, puddin'!" she exclaimed.

"Don't call me puddin'!" he roared. He lifted his gun to aim at the rope holding her up.

"Mr. J…what are you doing?" she stammered.

"Just trust me!" he growled, and fired. The bullet sliced through the rope, sending her plummeting toward the ground with a scream. The chair impacted with the floor and shattered into pieces, freeing Harley, who hissed in pain as she felt the bruises forming.

"Run, you useless dame!" shouted Joker from above, picking off the men who ran toward her. Harley needed no second bidding, hurrying to her feet and racing toward the door. She was caught just before she reached it by Sal Maroni, who put one arm around her throat and held a gun to her head with the other.

"Stop shooting now, Joker, or this bitch dies!" he shouted.

The firing abruptly ceased. "That's better," hissed Maroni. "You know, maybe I did misunderstand you, Joker. I kinda thought you didn't feel nothing for nobody, but why else would you show up here to rescue this dumb blonde?"

"It's called principles, Maroni," retorted Joker. "I can't expect common thugs like you to have 'em, but you of all people should understand the importance of earning respect for your reputation. And people wouldn't have a lotta respect for me if they thought they could steal from the Joker and get away with it."

"Is that really it, though?" asked Maroni, smiling at him. "I think you've gone a little soft. I think this dame really does mean something to you after all."

"You can think what you want," retorted Joker. "But you gotta remember, you're not very good at thinking."

"If she really means nothing to you, you won't mind if I put a bullet in her head, will you?" asked Maroni, cocking the gun against Harley's skull. "You don't have to worry about your reputation – I'll tell everyone I know that the Joker is even more of a heartless, unfeeling bastard than we originally thought. He stood by and let the woman he was sleeping with get drilled through the skull. That's cold, and it'll do nothing but enhance your reputation. So if that's the only thing you're concerned about, you'll let me shoot."

Harley could see his finger tightening on the trigger out of the corner of her eye. She shut her eyes tightly, waiting for the end. She heard the shot…

And then opened her eyes as something warm and wet sprayed on her. It was blood, she realized, Maroni's blood as his body slumped to the ground from the bullet Joker had fired into his skull.

"Nobody hurts my Harley but me," Joker growled, lowering the gun.

Harley stood frozen in place, shivering in terror and astonishment at what had just happened. She was jolted back to reality when the Joker lay a hand on her shoulder. "You ok?" he muttered.

"Oh…Mr. J!" she sobbed, the horror suddenly overwhelming her. She leaped into his arms, bursting into tears. "You saved me! I knew you would!"

He said nothing, and did nothing. Harley expected him to embrace her, or comfort her, but he remained standing still, his arms at his sides. She drew away at last, and he raised her face up to him, examining her bruises. "No permanent damage," he muttered. "Good. Come on," he said, turning abruptly and heading out the door.

Harley stared after him, surprised by his lack of emotion. "Harley, are you hurt?" asked Rocco, who was much more concerned than Joker appeared to be.

"I'm fine," she said, wiping her nose, which was still bleeding. "He didn't hurt me too bad. I'm…used to worse," she murmured, looking at Joker.

"That's good," said Rocco. "We were all really worried about you. Except Moe, but he's dead now, so I guess I can say all…"

"I really appreciate it, Roc," said Harley. "And you're sweet to be so concerned," she added, hugging him. "But let's go home – the sooner I leave this place behind, the better."

They walked to the car, where Joker sat in the driver's seat with the engine running. Harley climbed into the passenger seat and lay a hand on his knee. "You ok, Mr. J?" she asked.

He grunted, backing out the car and heading off into the streets of Gotham. He didn't look at her, and he didn't say a word until they had returned to the hideout.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Harley did was take a bath to wash off all the blood. She examined her bruises, which she figured would heal fairly quickly. Then she got out of the bath, wrapped a towel around her, and headed back into the bedroom.

The Joker was there, staring at the wall. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, and Harley almost hated to disturb his concentration.

"You were right – no permanent damage," she commented. "Just a few cuts and bruises that should heal nicely. I don't even think he broke my nose. Just shows you how weak a punch he had."

The Joker grunted. "I really appreciate you coming to rescue me," continued Harley. "I knew you would. I knew you loved me…"

She was stunned when he suddenly punched her across the face. "Shut up!" he roared. "Shut up, you little idiot! Do you have any idea what trouble you put me through today?! You were stupid to get yourself kidnapped, stupid! It was all your fault!"

"I'm…I'm sorry, puddin'!" stammered Harley, shocked at his fury.

"Don't call me puddin'!" he shouted, punching her again. "I'll give you some permanent damage, you dumb broad! You think you got off nice and easy with Maroni, but I'll beat you into a bloody pulp, you little moron! How could you be so careless?! How could you let yourself get taken?! Why didn't you fight them?!"

"I'm sorry!" cried Harley, curling up into a ball. "They…they caught me by surprise…"

He grabbed her arm and wrenched her to her feet. Then he seized her around the waist from behind. "When someone has you like this, what do you do?" he hissed into her ear.

"I…I dunno," she stammered.

"Think!" he roared, removing one hand to grip her hair. "What do you do?"

"I can't think…you're hurting me!" she cried.

"That's when it's most important to think!" he hissed, yanking her hair back. "What do you do?!"

Harley didn't think – her body just reacted. She elbowed Joker in the ribs, and when she felt his hold loosening, she slammed her head back into his face. He let go of her, and she raced toward the door.

He grabbed her just as she was about to leave. "Good," he hissed, his nose bleeding. "Now when someone has you by the throat, what do you do?" he hissed, facing her with both hands tight around her neck.

"You're choking me…" she gasped.

"I know, you little idiot!" he roared. "But someday it won't be me doing this, so what do you do?!"

Harley again reacted without thinking – she kicked out, hitting Joker in the shins. Then she punched him across the face until he let her go. She raced for the door again, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her back to him, seizing her shoulders. She flinched, and shut her eyes.

"Please…please don't hurt me anymore," she whispered.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, you stupid girl!" he hissed. "I'm trying to make sure you never get kidnapped again! I'm trying to teach you how to defend yourself against people when they try! I can't deal with a repeat of today, do you understand me?!" he roared, shaking her. "I can't have you taken from me again…"

She opened her eyes slowly to see his bloodied face, his eyes blazing rage…and something else. Some spark behind the violence and fury and madness in his green eyes. It was a spark that Harley had always imagined she had seen there, but she hadn't truly seen it, she realized, until today. And it made her indescribably happy.

She kissed him, and he returned it, with the same violence he had been hurting her with previously, an almost desperate pain. He ripped the towel off her and slammed her down onto the bed, and Harley gave herself up to the man who loved her.

They lay together naked in the tangled sheets, stained red with their mutual blood. Harley was the first to speak. "I'm sorry I got kidnapped," she murmured.

"Just don't let it happen again," he retorted. "I don't wanna have to go through what I went through today again. I was…" He trailed off.

"What?" pressed Harley.

"I was…afraid," he murmured. "I was afraid I was going to lose you. I didn't realize that was what it was at first, because I haven't been afraid of anything in so long…and it annoyed me a little. Because I was never supposed to be afraid of anything, especially not losing people. That's a weakness, a vulnerability, and I'm supposed to be…invulnerable. And you were never supposed to be that important to me. I was just using you in Arkham. I was just using you to bust outta that hellhole. I told you what you wanted to hear, played on your sympathies…you didn't mean anything to me. You weren't anything more than a tool. I thought you'd be a fun amusement after you broke me outta there, a toy I could play with until I broke you. I don't know when it changed. But it has changed. Today I knew it had. And it was a horrible experience, realizing that I was capable of something like that. Realizing that I could have lost you, and how much that would have hurt me…"

He trailed off, gently tracing down the bruises on her body that he had caused. "I wanted to punish you for inflicting that on me, and to punish myself for allowing myself to be so weak as to…love someone who could be taken from me."

He looked up at her. "I thought about letting you die," he said. "So I would be rid of these feelings, and this weakness. But I couldn't do that. It was too late. Against my better judgment, I saved you. I knew if I didn't, I would always regret it. I knew I would always regret letting someone take my joke away from me before I could give the punchline. If I had lost you, it would be like leaving a joke half finished...and I ain't the kinda guy who starts a joke without finishing it."

"I'm sorry I caused you pain, puddin'," murmured Harley.

"That's all right," he said with a smile. "You know what pain does to me."

She smiled back. "I love you," she whispered, cuddling into his embrace.

He didn't say anything, but gently ran his fingers through her hair. "You understand the danger you're in now, being special to me, don't you?" he murmured. "You understand that people are going to try to hurt you to hurt me?"

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "But you can teach me to fight, can't you, puddin'? To defend myself?"

"I can," he agreed. "And I can also never let anyone else see how much you mean to me. No public displays of affection, nothing that lets anyone see you as anything other than an unwanted hanger-on."

Harley frowned. "Yeah, I guess that's…for the best. Could get pretty annoying though, for people to think I'm just some pathetic doormat who gets nothing in return…"

"It keeps you safe," he interrupted. "My abuse will keep you safe. You just remember what I was like the day I almost lost you, and remember that's why I'm doing it. So we both don't have to go through anything like that again."

"Or…I could leave," said Harley, looking at him. "That would keep me safe, if I was…away from you."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. You could. Because you'll always be in danger, being close to me. Even if people think you're meaningless to me, you could be caught in the crossfire one day when someone's gunning for me. I live a dangerous life, and you shouldn't share it if you wanna be safe."

Harley gazed into his eyes. "Well…I think being safe is pretty overrated," she murmured. "If I do get killed one day…at least I'll be killed doing what I love, with the man I love. And what's the point of life if you ain't doing that?" she asked, grinning.

He grinned back. "You took the words right outta my mouth, pumpkin pie," he whispered, kissing her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Present Day**

Harley Quinn opened her eyes, returning from her memories. The noises from next door had stopped, and she thanked heaven for small mercies. She glanced over at her phone, and reviewed the messages from Joker. Then she sighed, picking up her bag and heading for the door.

She exited the room just as one of the people next door did with an ice bucket in hand. "Oh…hi, Red," said Harley, recognizing Poison Ivy. "Happy Valentine's."

"Harley!" exclaimed Ivy, forcing a smile. "What a…pleasant surprise! What are you doing in this cheap hotel?"

"Well, I was gonna spend the night alone away from Mr. J," said Harley. "He really pissed me off earlier tonight when he brought Batman on our Valentine's Day date. But I've had some time to cool off, and I realized I can't ever leave the big jerk permanently, not after all we've been through together. He just means too much to me. So I'm heading back home. What are you doing here? I heard you earlier – glad you're having a successful Valentine's Day," she added, smiling at her.

"Oh…yeah…I am," she agreed.

"Anyone I know?" asked Harley, nodding inside.

"No, I don't think so," said Ivy hastily.

"Hey dollface, hurry up with that ice!" shouted a voice from inside. "The champagne's getting warm!"

Harley stared at her. "Is that…Scarface?"

"No," said Ivy, a little too quickly. "No, it's not. Just some guy who sounds like Scarface."

Harley continued to stare at her. "So…were you doing the puppet, or the ventriloquist? Or both?"

"That's really none of your business, Harley," snapped Ivy. "And it's not Scarface, or the Ventriloquist. It's…someone else."

"What's his name?" asked Harley.

"It's…uh…it's…also none of your business," retorted Ivy. "Now why don't you just go back to the clown? I hope one day you'll learn some self-respect and not come crawling back after he treats you like dirt, but I doubt it."

She returned to her room and shut the door. Harley shrugged, heading down the stairs and muttering, "If I had just done a puppet, I wouldn't be talking about self-respect."

…

"You're back," commented Joker, as Harley opened the door to their bedroom and entered.

"Yeah," said Harley, nodding. "You knew I would be. You were right. My kidnapping is a good anniversary to remember. I've just been remembering that day…everything about that day. That's why I came back."

He nodded. "Good. I knew it would work."

"What did you know would work?" asked Harley. "That if you sent those texts to me, you'd make me remember what you said that night? And that would have me come crawling back here?"

He chuckled. "I know you too well, pooh."

"Yeah, you do," agreed Harley. "I also know you too well. You didn't need to send 'em – you knew I'd be back sooner or later. I always am. But I know why you sent them – because you don't function well without me, not even for a little while. You need me. You don't like to admit it, and it's hard for you to believe, but I bring the same sort of stability to your life that Batman does. And for a man who claims to love chaos and spontaneity, you're actually hugely dependent upon your routine. Just like you gotta fight Batman every night, and apparently every Valentine's Day – some things need to be constant for you to be happy. And me being around is one of those things."

"That's some good shrinking there, pooh," said Joker, planting a kiss on her lips.

"And I guess some could argue that that's more psychological dependency than anything else," continued Harley. "But to be honest, psychological dependency has always been my favorite kind of love."

"Mine too," agreed Joker. "Why waste all that time with grand romantic gestures when you can just make people completely dependent on you so that the absence of your presence will cause an intense psychological breakdown? There's more than one way to show people you care, right, pooh?"

"That's right, Mr. J," agreed Harley, kissing him. "Who's my unhealthy, abusive lover?"

"Don't pretend you don't enjoy it, you dirty little minx," replied Joker, kissing her again. "Now while the Bat's outta it, and since it's Valentine's Day and all, what do you say we go out for a night on the town? We can paint it red!"

Harley sighed. "Is killing a buncha people really your idea of a romantic evening?"

"Harley, I'm surprised you have to ask that question," retorted Joker. "You know homicide puts me in the mood. Now c'mon," he said, handing her her giant mallet. "You go break yourself something nice. You deserve it," he added, pinching her cheek. "You know all the restaurants are gonna be packed tonight – let's attack a couple of 'em, terrorize a buncha innocent couples trying to have a romantic evening, and then come back here for some whoopie cushion time."

Harley sighed again, this time in delight. "Sounds perfect, Mr. J," she said.

And it did. It wasn't objectively a great way to spend Valentine's Day, but Harley knew better than to compare her and Mr. J to regular couples. What they had was indeed unhealthy and abusive, but it suited them just fine. Even if everyone else in the world turned against them, they would always have each other, and they would always have their mad love.

 **The End**


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